"Oh, be careful," she cried and as he tried roughly to kiss her she thrust him in the throat with her elbow. They struggled for a moment and then, as the machine made a swerve, she laid her hands on the wheel. "Just let me drive this machine," she said, "and remember--you are supposed to be a gentleman." "Well, I am!" protested Rimrock as he came out of his madness. "What's the matter? Are you going back home?" She had flung a quick turn out across a hard flat and was swinging back into the road. "I think we'd better," she answered quietly. "I hope you haven't made any mistake?" "Why--no!" he stammered. "Why? What do you mean? Don't you think I'm on the square? Well, I certainly am; I'm asking you to marry me!" "Yes, but even then; have I given you any reason to think I'm so madly infatuated? Of course I was foolish to come out with you this way, but I assure you I'm no flighty girl." "Oh, I didn't mean that!" protested Rimrock abjectly. "Say, now listen, you don't understand." He stopped and panted as he fought down his emotions and the automobile sped smoothly on. It was eight or ten miles across the level desert and a few minutes would bring them into town. "You don't know my ways," he went on bluffly, "but say, you don't need to be afraid. Just slow down a little, I want to talk with you--you're the finest girl I know. I want you, don't you see? And when I want anything----" He stopped as she glanced at him swiftly. "Yes, you try to take it," she said and curled her lip with scorn. "I understand you, perfectly; but I want to tell you something--there are some things you can't get that way. And one of them is love. That has to be given to you--and you have to be worthy of it--I don't suppose you ever thought about that." She kept her eyes on the road ahead, but Rimrock could see that she was biting her lip with anger. "That's the thing I don't like about you," she burst out passionately, "you never think about anybody else. You always resort to violence. And just because you can walk in on Mr. McBain----" "Ah!" exclaimed Rimrock, leaning forward accusingly; but she scorned to meet his stare. "--just because you can terrorize him with that pistol you carry----" "So that's what's the matter," went on Rimrock significantly, "you're thinking about Andy McBain!" "Mr. Jones!" she burst out, bringing the auto to a stop, "I guess this has gone far enough. Will you walk to town, or shall I?" "Neither one," he said quietly, taking over the wheel, "I'll drive you to the hotel myself." "Very well," she said and sat back white with anger as mile after mile sped past. "Here you are," he said as he slowed down at the Gunsight and suddenly she was her old, sweet self. "Thank you very much," she said, stepping gracefully out of the car; "the country was very beautiful." And she went smilingly in through the door.